Halo: Lords of War
Halo: Lords of War is a short story told through the eyes of a fireteam known for some of the greatest expertise of the UNSC which has the legendary callsign temporarily used by the first SPARTAN-I's, Echo-313, also known as Fireteam Echo and sometimes infamously called the Fist of ONI. They are stationed aboard the UNSC Bretagne, a member of the 17th Battlegroup Halo: LoW takes place during the horrific Second Great War, a four-way conflict lasting from 2680 to 2617. This short novel gives an insight to what it was like in the advanced warfare of the late 26th century. Characters *Captain Yuri Vokolov - C.O. of the [[UNSC Bretagne|UNSC Bretagne]] *Fireteam Echo - A fireteam that specializes in sniping and assassination missions. **Master Chief Petty Officer Travis-379 - What many would call the stereotypical Australian man, except for the fact that he is an outgoing SPARTAN-II. **Colonel James Corbett - A rugged yet friendly man from a small colony. One of the most successful ODST snipers of the War. 1. Routine Work - October 4, 2600 UNSC Calendar Steam shot from locks of the cryotube as it began to unfreeze. The UNSC Bretagne, a Leviathan-class Light Carrier, had just come out of Slipspace travel. James awoke in the defrosted chamber and stepped out, still a bit lethargic from the twenty day sleep. He had a number of scars on his face along with a few wrinkles from his age. Though he was techically seventy years old, he still had the body of a man in his mid-thirties thanks to his excersise, loads of cryo-sleep, and his SPARTAN-I augmentations. "We there yet?" James asked, scratching his head. "Yep, just about another hour or so. Get'cherself something to eat, Travis is already there," a short, scrawny sailor replied. James shivered a bit as he walked through numerous corridors since the heating units had been turned off to covserve power while much of the crew was in a deep sleep. He arrived in the small mess hall, where forty others were already eating. Most of the soldiers aboard had segregated from the sailors, though this was quite usual. James rolled through the food line, grabbing a rubyfruit and a metallic canister with vitamin-enhanced apple juice and proceeded to walk over to where his SPARTAN comrade was standing. "It's about time you got out of the tube, mate," Travis said to James. Travis, an Australian native, had retained much of his accent, something rare in the 26th century (Most accents in the colonies were either German, British, or oriental). "Yeah, at least it was a nice sleep. First time I've cryoed since '98. Anyways, I need to go check my rifle and make sure that its ready to go. I only cleaned the thing once since we took out those Captains on Ron Tott, you remember that one, don't you?" "Yeah, aren't we taking out a Captain this time, too?" the SPARTAN replied. "No, we're going to take out a field commander. If I remember right from briefing, its a War Chieftan in charge of a few legions. Seven months ago, he took out a whole vehicle base and now ONI wants him dead. At least he gets the honor of being taken out by 313." "If only the Covenant honored the people we killed, then this guy would be their next leader..." The two men then parted ways to their quarters to prepare for the assault. The Colonel latched his drink canister to a hook on his right hip and began singing a bit of folk music common in the outer colonies. It was like a mix of swing, American folk, and jazz all in one song, often called jigz. Oh, Maya baby, if only I knew, if only I knew, then maybe, just maybe... James arrived in his small room. It wasn't larger than sixty square feet, but it was still better than nothing. Now humming some song seldom heard by others, he pulled out a plastic card and swiped it through a slot of a locker which was situated in the corner. In it was his helmet, a few dozen pictures, 1,000 cR, twenty Tungsten projectiles, and his most prized posession, an M77 "Reaper". The extremely delicate and intricate system operated best if kept in good shape, and James did so. He spent nearly fifty minutes polishing, swabbing, and inspecting the weapon before a man knocked on the door and said, "pack your things, Colonel, your launching in nine." ---- James, now armed with his M77, an M7/S SMG clamped on his left thigh, an NH5 pistol on his right thigh, three Sweet William Cigars in a chest pocket, and his drink canister still on his hip, arrived in Hangar E on the mid-starboard of the carrier. Travis, then came in and gave a quick nod to James, signalling that he was ready to drop. The Colonel replied with the same action, and the two proceeded to board the Avenger Dropship, which would be carrying them, four other soldiers, which made up Alpha Squad, and two Pumas to what would soon become the silent battlefield. The dropship's four engines activated, followed a gradually loudening humming noise until the dropship began to rise from the ground. A siren went off, and all personel cleared from the hangar for decompression. The hangar doors opened, the vacuum of space sucking the dropship out. The D81B's turbines went to full power, jetting the craft towards the planet below. Large clouds of water vapor coated the humid planet. The Avenger closed in on the LZ, 200 meters, 150, 100, 60, 30, 10... touchdown. The rear hatch doors flung open, revealing the occupants to the storming planet. Though this hemisphere was supposed would normally be filled with sunlight, the everlasting clouds made it look almost like night due to the blue-grey clouds surrounding the planet. "Me and Senior will head up the mountain, Alpha Squad, recon for enemies. We don't need a bunch of apes crawling up our ass," the Colonel commanded. Fireteam Echo began their trek to the hill from which they would be sniping from. After half an hour or so of travelling, they arrived at the assassination point, approximately five kilometers from the Covenant base. In these conditions, the base was way too far away for an accurate shot. The two then set up a small camp with supplies they brought in a tent. With enough MRE's for five days, they had time. 2. Awoken - October 8, 2600 UNSC Calendar Two days after insertion, a UNSC dropship covertly arrived at their position. The pilot told them that it may be a few days, and he would be dropping off more supplies and a Puma for a quick escape if necessary. Just in a few hours after arriving, in the near pitch black light, the two noticed some movement at the entrance the Covenant fortifications. With utter silence, SPARTAN-379 checked the action with his binoculars. Using ONI hand signals, he said to James: Target confirmed, six hostiles, two Ghosts, beware confrontation. James nodded, then both of them retrieved their rifles. They attached infared devices to the end of the scopes which would grant them night vision. They set up their bipods and loaded the guns with 3-round magazines and battery packs. They then zoomed in on their targets, which was a mobile lance, consisting of three Jiralhanae Minors, one of which wielded a dim lantern, two Ghosts, and the War Chieftan. They were likely making a routine patrol, but would soon be interrupted. A few minutes later, they were within 1,200 meters, and Travis gave a signal that he would fire first then James would try to take out a Ghost before moving out. When they looked back into their scopes, however, they noticed that one Jiralhanae Minor was missing, and the lance was in a defensive position. Though both members of Fireteam Echo feared they had been noticed, their training kept them refrained from aborting. The SPARTAN lined up the target with his crosshair, and after about a second, fired. The round the mid-torso of the target, tearing his entire body into organic debris. James followed within five seconds, hitting the Ghost and completely destroying it. The now leaderless Minors panicked and tried to run back to the base, but they too went down, but suspiciously, not by the Fireteam. Against his assassin training, James blurted, "Okay, what the fucking hell is goi--." An infamous scream rang out for miles, one of pain and utter chaos. Travis knew what it was from experience. The Flood. "Jay, we need to get out of here, or they'll fucking get us, too." "But what about that screaming noise?" "My point exactly. You drive, I'll ride." James, who was oddly wearing a standard Marine helmet, put a Sweet William into his mouth and lit it with a match cuffed under his other hand to shield from the rain. "Alright, hope you liked the rollercoasters back home," James said as he turned on the Puma's engine. The fuel cell engine activated, and they began speeding down the hill at over thirty miles an hour. On his comm system, Travis reported, "SPARTAN-379 to UNSC Bretagne. I repeat, SPARTAN-379 to Bretagne, respond." "We hear you, sir," a communications officer on the carrier above replied. "We need immediate evac. Send a dropship to L.Z. Alpha. Tell Alpha Squad to go there too. This is a Code Red situation. Hurry with the evac, Echo out." James wanted to ask why they were hurrying, but he knew that Travis would not tell. Due to the high oxygen content of the planet, James' cigar had aready burnt to a nub. Still driving with one hand, he popped another into his mouth and lit it in the enclosed, dry cockpit. He looked down to check the radar, and noticed that a blanket of movement had been chasing them. "Travis, fire at will!" He yelled to the SPARTAN manning the fifty caliber cannon. "At what?" "Behind us! Anywhere! Just shoot god dammit" Travis then realized it, the depths of the planet were probably infested and the recent Covenant and UNSC activity had likely awoken them. He fired aimlessly at the seemingly invisible millions of Flood Infection Forms behind them. Just then, a rare occurence happened: the fast-moving clouds above quickly dissolved away, creating a massive spillway of sunlight. Travis looked around and noticed that not only were there infection forms, but there were also flying creatures of Flood biomass. They resembled ancient pterosaurs, spanning six feet from heat to tail and with a wingspan of at least twenty feet. One of these "Winged Forms" swooped down at the speeding Puma. Using its large, one foot long talons, it attempted to lift up the small vehicle by its exterior roll cage, removing the front wheels from the ground. Travis, who luckily donned state-of-the-art Mark VIII armor, used a retractable gauntlet blade to repeatedly stab the Winged Form's belly until the creature let go out of pain. The SPARTAN almost instantly reacted by firing his .50 caliber gun at the beast, killing it. He proceeded to fire at the other dozen Winged Forms. He killed an addtional five of the decrepid beasts before they started to fly away, although the infection forms would not let up. "Senior, we're gonna need some water or this thing will run out of fuel." "We can't stop now, Jay, just stay on course, the Avenger should be just ahead," Travis added. And he was partially right, too. After another minute of driving, a landed dropship could be seen up ahead. Travis knew the ship had to get off the ground or it too would become infested. "Clear the L.Z. I repeat, get that bird off the fucking ground!" The confused pilot replied, "What do you mean?" Unfortunately, it was too late for the pilots inside, or so it was thought by SPARTAN-379. To avoid the swarm, which was still more than three quarters of its orginal strength, Echo had to swerve around the grounded dropship. The Infection Forms stopped and then proceeded to focus on the dropship. The two pilots inside were luckily sealed off by an airtight hatch, which no amount of Flood, at least of the types that we know of, could break through. "Echo-313, what in the hell is going on here?!?" the pilot demanded. "We're not exactly sure, just help us out here, mate," Travis responded. The Fireteam had gotten a fairly large span between them and the Flood. Just then, Alpha Squad arrived with their two Pumas. The three Pumas had turned so that their left sides were facing the Flood. This allowed the drivers to fire the .50 cal side-mounted chainguns while the gunners could also lay down a maelstrom of lead on what SPARTAN-379 often referred to the miniature demons from hell. These, along with fire from the Avenger's dual 20mm gun and small supply of ANVIL-II Air-to-Surface Missiles, slowly deteriorated the swarm that gives the Flood their name. With in a few minutes of constant fire and evasive maneuvers, the Infection forms had been subdued for the most part, with less then five thousand remaining. However, each Puma was out of ammo, and if the drivers of the vehicles tried to get out to board the dropship, they would likely be engulfed by the flood. To strengthen their force. Then, the Flood organisms strangely, yet strategically, clumped together to concentrate their assault. The Pumas then drove to the west, but one ran out of fuel. The dropship tried to support it, but it was too late. The gunner tried to fight off the Flood with his NH30B Assault Rifle and scored a few dozen kills. But this did nothing for him. As he tried to get out and run, an Infection Form lunged at him, grabbing on and beginning its takeover. The scene of horror made the driver of the Puma faint. The newly created Combat Form broke through the glass of the Puma's cockpit, waking the Marine inside. The man screamed in horror just before the Combat Form smashed the Marine's face, a body part unnecessary for infection by Flood. "That's fucking gonna happen to us too, what do we do?" Colonel Corbett said on the radio. Before anyone could respond, their attention turned to the ridge in the east: thousands of Sentinels, activated by Flood activity. They sped towards the Infection Forms, completely ignoring the humans. The Infection forms strangely discontinued following the humans and tried to attack the Sentinels, though this was useless. However, this window of time allowed the four remaining footsoldiers to get aboard the dropship and escape. "So, Senior, you wanna tell me what those damn things are now?" James inquired as the dropship rose from the ground. "Let's just wait till we get to the carrier," the SPARTAN replied. He secretly enjoyed Jame's frustration. Jokingly, James retorted, "Now I know the 105th don't like SPARTANs." They both chuckled a bit. James then took his second cigar stub and tossed it out the rear hatch before its closing, sighed, and took a big gulp from his drink canister, which was still well preserved on his waist belt. ---- Upon arriving at the bridge of the Bretagne, an aged man of Russian descent stood in officer dress, puffing on a menthol-flavored Sweet William Cigar. (In progress) Category: Halo: Infinity